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512Hitt) Note*; 




" Inest sua gratia parvia," 




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To Mrs. and the Misses POWELL, 










A. W. W. 

Sidmouth, August 24, 1833. 

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Preface • . . vii 



The Harvest Storm . . . . . . . 3 

Spring 5 

On the Pleasures of Retirement 8 

Description of a Chariot Race . . . . 17 
The Adventures of Orpheus and Eurydice . . .19 

Notes 27 


The Characters of Caesar and Pompey contrasted . 53 

Caesar crosses the Rubicon 58 

The Interview of Brutus and Cato, and re-marriage of 

Marcia 62 

The Parting of Pompey and Cornelia ... 78 

Caesar's Address to his Army, before the Battle . . 88 

Cato's Reply to Labienus 96 

Notes 99 


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To Winter 115 

Stanzas for Music 119 

Song 122 

Serenade 124 

Birds, from a modern Latin Poet . . . . 129 

Written under an Aged Oak 131 

Elf TtJV rXttiTTClV TtJV 'TLWrjVlKfJV .... 138 

To the Greek Language v 139 

To Health, from the Greek of Ariphron the Sicyonian 140 
The first Choral Ode of the Hecuba of Euripides, from 

the Greek 142 


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The pleasures and advantages consequent on mental 
cultivation ; the importance, not less in a national than indi- 
vidual point of view, of a due regard to the nurture of our 
better powers; are, happily, beginning to be generally 
appreciated : and it may be presumed that the day has for 
ever closed upon us, which would stamp the mind the crea- 
ture of external circumstances, and measure the capacity for 
intellectual pabulum, by the unequal distribution of fortune's 

But in this age of enquiry, it is too true that while the 
advancement of science has been rapid without parallel, 


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ground has decidedly been lost in those departments of learn- 
ing, pre-eminently calculated to " humanize the mind," and 
raise us above those mercenary pursuits which now almost 
entirely engross popular attention. While the mighty me- 
chanical agents which genius has eliminated from materials 
apparently the most unimportant, have surmounted every 
obstacle opposed to their progress, and still press forward on 
rapid wing, conquering and to conquer ; we have, it must be 
feared, lost our sensibility to delights more purely intellectual, 
more decidedly contributing to exalt us over the mere 
animal, by refining the sentiments, and cultivating the taste. 
Thus while our aspirants to scientific fame stand, both in 
number and erudition, eminent, perhaps, over those of any 
preceding age, our poets, our painters, and our sculptors, are 
deficient in that fire and originality, which so brilliantly shine 
through the works of their ancestors, in times less devoted to 
speculative enquiries. 

Nor less in fault is the system pursued in the education 
of our Fair* No matter how trifling an occupation ; — it may 
even tend to degrade the mind ;— " Is it fashionable f " forms 
the first enquiry; and if this be answered in the affirmative, 


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ruinous indeed is deemed the consequence of its neglect. 
Thus to the elegant and learned accomplishments which so 
adorned the courts of our Elizabeth and Lady Jane Grey, 
have succeeded a crowd of butterfly amusements, which 
flutter in a morning sun, to be scorched to ashes ere they 
have half endured its meridian blaze ; utterly worthless in the 
improvement of the rising generation, or as a solace to the 
cares which will naturally arise, and cast their gloom over 
the social hearth. Few, in short, pursue literature further 
than they may render it subservient to immediate secular 
advantage ; and this, perhaps, may satisfactorily account for 
our undeniable decline in all matters of tasteful discrimination. 

To enjoy any share in the annihilation of these great and 
growing evils ; to endeavour, by means however trifling, to 
induce a love of learning for her own sake, and relax the 
fetters which at present enslave her, is indeed enviable ; and 
under the impression that, than poetry, the progress of none 
of her sister arts was better calculated to eradicate the mis- 
chief, the idea struck me, of attempting to arrange in a ver- 
nacular dress, selections from classic antiquity, requiring no 
further information for their relish, than such as might be 


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conveyed in a few short notes, and universally allowed modeb 
of sentimental parity and beauty. Not that I for a moment 
indulge the hope that this little work can possess much 
weight in the accomplishment of designs so vast and impor- 
tant i bift if, in the confined sphere to which its circulation 
will in all probability be limited, it induce but an individual 
to explore the riches of the vast mine from which its contents 
are drawn, I shall be far from considering the pleasing hours 
devoted to its composition as spent to no purpose, and shall 
esteem it that the result of my humble endeavours has not 
fallen still-born to the ground. 

The acknowledged worth of every line in the Georgics 
of Virgil almost renders apology necessary for making selec- 
tions from that noble poem, not a sentence of which breathes 
other than the purest spirit, not a word of which could be 
withdrawn without diminishing the beauty, harmony, and 
delicacy of the whole. But while every portion of the work 
is in most perfect keeping, episodes, arising out of the subject, 
are judiciously interwoven ; which, taken from the context, 
form unrivalled models of poetical composition. To such 
digressions have I directed my attention, interfering but little 


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with the more immediate subject of the poem, agriculture; 
and though I readily acquiesce in the feet that every part 
will afford e^ual gratification to the philologist and man of 
cultivated taste, I cannot wean myself from the idea that, for 
those whoseiaste is yet in infancy, (and to such alone can I 
presume to address myself ) selections, unfettered by techni- 
calities, will possess greater charms than the entire compo- 
sition, however faultless. Besides, a very chief beauty in the 
original work consists not so much in the subject, as in the 
manner of handling it ; the force and aptitude of expression, 
the harmony of versification ; beauties which, to translators, 
have proved as formidable difficulties as the attempt to steer 
between Scylla and Charybdis. These exquisite touches, these 
" thoughts that breathe, and words that burn," can be known 
and felt in the original alone. - No modern pen can possibly 
transfer the dignity and force of the master-spirits of yore. 

On the Pharsalia of Lucan, taken connectedly, so much 
praise cannot justly be bestowed. None who enjoy the 
beauties of this author will fail to sorrow over his defects, 
arising as tKey did from the ardour of youthful imagination, 
uncontrolled by the more sober judgment of advanced years. 


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That a poem, written in the decline of Roman literature, the 
production of a man who died at the age of twenty-seven, 
should furnish such numerous specimens of such surpassing 
excellence, and particularly should evince such gigantic 
powers in the conception of character, deserves flur warmest 
admiration. But these excellencies have hitherto been es- 
teemed too slightly, and every little defect magnified to excess. 
Lucan's versification may not 

" Unlink the chains which tie 
" The hidden soul of harmony " 

equally with the mellifluous flow of Virgil ; but the censure of 
Scaliger, "non canity sed Im trot" is assuredly too severe. 
Language may not always bend beneath his sway as under 
the flowery yoke of Horace ; but shall we, on that account, 
altogether deny his power " to build the lofty rhyme ? " His 
pages may occasionally be deformed by false taste and bom- 
bast ; let us not for this allege, as some have done, that his 
partial beauties are obscured by immeasurable faults. Rather 
should we wonder that a poem like the Pharsalia is the 
production of a bard so young ; and believe, in the spirit of 
candid criticism, that maturer judgment would have ju- 


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diciously grafted its fruits on this unfinished production of 
early genius. 

For introducing into this volume a few attempts at ori- 
ginal verse, I fear the critic's severe reprehension. Let me 
assure him, that obedience to the wishes of my patrons, 
rather than any idea of the intrinsic worth of these compo- 
sitions, has caused their insertion. Most of them were the 
effusions of very tender years ; I therefore anticipate nothing 
but reproof from those who regard them with any other than 
the eye of friendship. 

NortMeigk, near Honiton, 
Augtut 15. 


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BOOK I. 316— 34. 

Oft, as the farmer bids the labouring swain 
Cull from its brittle stem the ripen'd grain 
Which gilds the harvest, battle thro' the heav'n 
The hosts of winds : the heavy ears are riv'n 
Forth by their lowest roots, and borne on high, 
As, when black Winter bellows thro* the sky, 
Floats the frail chaff, the reeds in wild commo- 
tion fly ! 

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Then worlds of clouds athwart theheav'n are stor'd 
Drunk from the deep ; and worlds of water pour'd 
From out their darksome womb : — the very beams 
Of iEther burst : — a thick'ning deluge streams, 
Drowns the glad crops, the labours of the teams ! 
The trenches swell ; the foaming rivers roar ; 
The white-mouth'd billows dash upon the shore. 
In thickest darkness shrouded, from above 
With glowing fury hurls the Thunderer Jove 
His terrible bolts ! Earth trembles ! Beasts are fled ! 
The nations shrink with universal dread ! 
Proud Athos cow'rs beneath his burning brand, 
And high Ceraunia shudders at his hand ; 
The winds rebellow ; fiercer flow the floods ; 
The tempest howls among the rocks, the woods ! 

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BOOK II. 323—45. 

Spring robes in glad array the woods, the meads, 
Swells the moist earth, and asks the genial seeds, 
Tis then from Heaven Almighty iEther bows, 
And warms the bosom of his happy spouse 
With fertile show'rs ; and all her various race 
Partake the bounty of his vast embrace! 
The feather'd warblers carol through the grove ; 
The joyful herds renew their wonted love ; 

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Earth teems with good ; the meadow bares her 

And woos the rip'ning breezes from the West ; 
While gentle dew descends in balmy streams, 
And vegetation courts the young sun-beams \ 
The southern blast the vine no longer dreads, 
Nor storms which sweep the northern pole ; but 

In verdant luxury her op'ning leaves, 
While the warm gale her bursting blossom heaves I 

When first Creation's morning dawn'd, and Time 
GazM in enchantment an the young World's prime, 
Herds quafFd the growing light, and from the bed 
Of Earth, Mans iron race uprear'd its head ; 

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When beasts were sent, the rising wood to rove, 
And primal planets roam'd the Vault above; 
No Winter from a desert East would burst, 
But universal Spring young Natujre nurst ! 
And, ere the offspring from the womb had rose, 
Had sunk the mother 'neath her labour throes, 
Except indulgent Deities had blest 
With genial warmth, and down'd the couch of 

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BOOK II. 458—540. 

Too happy rustics ! (did they know to prize 
The happiness which rustic life supplies — ) 
For whom, removed from public scenes afar, 
The clash of Discord, and the din of War, 
Spontaneous Earth abundant produce gives, 
To crown their labours, to support their lives ! 
What tho' the blazon'd hall from portals proud, 
For them may ne'er disgorge the flatt'rers crowd ; 

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Nor various gems the tortois'd door array ; 
Nor broider'd forms the spangled vest display ; 
Nor Corinth's lustres on their tunics glow ; 
Nor Tyrian colours for their fleeces flow ; 
Nor cinnamon its fragrant essence pour, 
To spoil the pureness of their olive store ? — 
Their's is the peaceful mind, a fruitful source 
Of various opulence : to mar the course 
Of their innocuous bark no tempest blows : 
A never-ending rest the farmer knows ! 
The grot, the living lake, and Tempi's shade, 
The cattle's lowing, and the woodland glade 
Invite to sweet repose. His forests rise ; 
The hunted victim from its covert flies ; 

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His youths, iour'd to toil, restrain desires ; 
His pure oblations, venerable sires : — 
Nor yet does Justice wholly disappear ; 
At least her sacred tread's imprinted here \ 

Ye heavenly Nine, my best, supremest care, 
Accept the off 'ring, hear your prophet's pray'r ! 
Give me to trace the planet's orb, explain 
The sun's eclipses, and the lunar wane, 
The crash of earthquakes, and old Ocean's pride, 
When bursts its wonted bound the foaming tide ; 
To mark the waters as they backward run ; 
Or seek the causes why the Winter sun 
So hastes to quench his glory in the main ; 
Or question why so short night's Summer reign. 

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And if my life-blood in its courses freeze, 
Unapt to scan such lofty themes as these, 
Retirement's pleasure still to me is dear ; — 
To mark the valley's fertile stream, to hear 
The river's roaring torrent, or to view 
Unseen, unknown, the forest's varied hue! 
Oh ! lead me to the plain Sperchius laves, 
Where Taygetus with Bacchic orgies raves ! 
Oh ! kindly waft me where the cooling vale 
Extends from Hsemus, and with boughs empale ! 
If blest his lot, who knows the primal cause 
Of Earth and Heav'n ; elicits Nature's laws, 
Whose conquering steps o'er doubt and danger 

Who braves the roar of greedy Acheron ; 

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Yet blest and blessing all may he repose, 
Who Pan, Sylvanus, and the Dryads knows ! 
No Lictor's rod, no purple robe of state, 
No discord, moving kindred hearts to hate, 
His soul disturbs ; and though the Dacian horde 
In hostile mood conspiring Ister ford, 
He knows nor care nor terror. Rome may wield 
An universal sceptre ; empires yield 
Beneath her proud career; while happy he 
Nor envies wealth, nor dreads adversity ! 
What e'er spontaneous issues from the land, 
Or fruit, or grain, or flow 'ret, Culls his hand ; 
Nor needs he iron laws, with vengeance rife, 
The Forum's tumult, or th' Exchequer's strife. 

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The trackless main's abyss let others plough, 
Or rush to war, or court a regal brow, 
Or meditate a city's overthrow, 
And Lares, buried in prevailing woe, 
While onyx bowls they quaff, in soul elate, 
Or sue for slumber, robed in Sarrian state. 
Another doat upon his golden heap ; 
This strive with floods of eloquence to steep 
The world in wonder, while another draws 
From chiefs and people echoes of applause. 
Let others revel, stain'd with kindred gore, 
Desert the consecrated fanes of yore, 
Their father's venerable thresholds fly, 
And seek for shelter 'neath an alien sky. 

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The various labours of the rolling year 
The happy rustic's spirit still will cheer ; 
And rich abundance will the furrow'd field 
For country, kindred, flocks, and heifers yield. 
Nor, till the Autumn's downy fruit abound, 
Or flocks increase, or every hope be crown'd 
With Ceres' golden sheaf, and rich manure 
The furrows load, and granaries secure 
The various produce, will relax his toil : — 
Then Winter comes, and Sicyonian oil 
From all his presses flows. Returning boars 
Exult in fatness ; and their crimson stores 
The woods afford ; the blooming apples shine, 
And mellow'd on the hill 's the fruitful vine. 

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And oh ! to see his lovely children share 
The envied kiss ! His spotless threshold, where 
Young Modesty resides ! His cows return 
With bursting udders ! And his kidlings burn 
T excel their mates in playful strife ! While he 
Each redient feast devotes to jollity, 
And where upon the shrine the faggots blaze, 
Invites his neighbours, and resounds the praise 
Of thee, Lenseus, while they crown the bowls, 
And steep in luscious wine their jovial souls ! 
Or bids the swains in rustic sport contend, 
Or hurl their arrows at the elm, or bend 
Their brawny forms in wrestling, while the prize 
To grace the victor, fires their envious eyes 1 

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Twas such delights the ancient Sabines knew, 
And Remus foster'd ; thus Etruria grew 
Supreme in fortitude ; and peerless Rome 
Has round her seven-fold hills a rampart thrown. 
To such pursuits did golden Saturn move, 
Ere slaughter fed the feast ; Dictaean Jove 
The sceptre sway'd, or martial trumpets roar'd 
Or clash'd in deadly strife the hated sword. 

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BOOK III. 103— 12 

Hast thou ne'er seen, when first the chariots bound 

In rapid race, and seize upon the ground. 

How hope elate the youthful guider fills, 

How pallid fear through every bosom thrills ? 

Now, pois'd upon the rein, they ply the thong, 

And swift the smoking axle flies along. 


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Now low, now high in air the coursers rise, 
They float upon the wind, they sweep the skies ! 
No stop, no stay ; and still the rising clouds 
Of yellow dust the winged chariot shrouds ; 
Still pants the foremost, wet with followers' breath ; 
So high the thirst for fame, so sweet the victor's 

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BOOK IV. 457—527. 

(Aristaeus, son of Apollo and the Nymph Cyrene, was 
enamoured by the beauty of Eurydice, the wife of Orpheus, 
and, observing her alone in the open air, "pursued her. 
Her flight, and its catastrophe, with the subsequent disas- 
ters of Orpheus, are pourtrayed by Virgil in inimitable 
numbers ; constituting one of the most noble and enchant- 
ing episodes which ever entered into poet's imagination.) 

Along the river's side the maiden fled, 

And wild dismay her hasty footsteps sped, 



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And oh ! she saw not, couch'd upon her way. 
To guard the bank, a fearful hydra lay ! 
The mountains hear the sister Dryads 9 moan, 
And Rhodop£'s vast rock returns the groan, 
And high Pangaea, martial Rhesus, share 
Orithy ia's, Hebrus', Getae's care ! 
And he* to soothe his sorrow, seeks the shores, 
And sad and solitary music pours 
To thee, sweet bride; thee sings at morning rise ; 
Thee woos his strain, when latest twilight dies; 
For thee he dared the lofty gates of Hell, 
The jaws of Taenarus, the groves where dwell 
In dread obscurity, the Manes* train ; 
Where Pluto boasts an unrelenting reign, 

* Orpheus. 

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Where revel fiends, of human-kind the foe, 
Their hearts insensible to tales of woe ! 

But, as he strikes the sorrows of his string, 
From Erebus the ghastly spectres spring, 
As countless birds to forest umbrage fly, 
When eve, or tempests darken o'er the sky. 
The mother, and the sire, the warrior's shade, 
The beardless boy, the unaffianced maid, 
The infant o'er whose pyre a parent wept;— 
All round whose forms had dark Cocytus swept 
Its reedy maze, and stagnant waters wound, 
And gloomy Styx its nine-fold circles bound. 
Death's deepest haunts, astonish'd, heard his care; 
The wond'ring Furies rais'd their serpent hair ; 

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The jaws of Cerberus enchantment clos'd. 
And charm'd Ixion on his wheel repos'd. 

Now, danger vanquish'd by the poet's lay, 
To upper air he wound his joyful way, 
While follow'd the restored Eurydice . 
His willing footsteps ; (such the stern decree 
Of Proserpine ;) but sudden frenzy mov'd 
His anxious soul : — oh ! had the Manes lov'd 
Or known to pity, his affection well 
Had hop'd the pardon of the fiends of Hell ! 
Unmindful minstrel ! to the verge of light 
Return'd Eurydice. His eager sight 
He prematurely feasts ! Again she flies ! 
Ah ! lost his toil ! Again she dies— she dies ! 

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The Tyrant's league his ruthless passion broke, 
And thrice Avernus groan d, as thus she spoke: — 

"Thou hapless Orpheus ! say what Fury wills 

" Our joint perdition, our ufiited ills? 

"Thy miserable bride the Fates recall, 

" And ceaseless slumbers o'er my eyelids fall ! 

" Adieu ! a thickening shade my form obscures ; 

" Tis vain t' extend my hand — no longer yours ! 

She said; and swiftly from his vision flees 
As rising smoke commingles with the breeze; 
Nor sees his strife to grasp- her spirit's hold ; 
Nor hears the orisons he fain had told ; 

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And dark and deep Hell's bounding waters roar, 
And Charon listens to bis plaint no more ! 

Oh! speak a solace for his woeful life, 
His prospects blighted, doubly lost his wife ! 
What second melody will Hades move, 
Or rescue from the Stygian bark his love ? 

For nine long months, by Strymon's desert wave, 
He wound his lament 'neath a rocky cave, 
And at the harmony would tigers fawn, 
And oaks, enchanted, bound across the lawn ! 
Thus, on the poplar spray, the nightingale 
Tells of her ravish'd young the mournful tale ; 

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How some rude ploughman tore them from her 

nest, • 

Ere yet the downy plumes had fledg'd their breast; 
All night her melancholy music swells, 
And still reiterates her plaintive knells, 
And soft and sad her melting numbers flow, 
And all the grove reverberates her woe ! 

No hymenaeal rites, no other love, 
No second fair his sadden'd soul could move ; 
And now he pours his plaint to Scythia's snows, 
Where Tanais' water freezes as it flows ; 
And now Ripheei's ice-bound summit haunts, 
And Pluto's unavailing bounty chaunts ! 

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Ciconia's dames, enrag'd with Bacchic fire, 
T' avenge their unrequited love conspire ; 
His youthful limbs with furious zeal divide, 
And roll his sever'd head down Hebrus* tide. 
Eurydicfc still linger'd on his tongue, 
Eurydicfc his faltering accents sung, 
Ah ! poor Eurydice ! the rocks and river rung. 

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Note A. Page 3. 

" The heavy ears are riv'n 
" Forth by their lowest roots, and borne on high, 
" As, when black Winter bellows thro* the sky, 
" Floats the frail chaff, the reeds in wild commotion fly /" 

In my analysis of this noble passage, I have ventured, 
with Dr. Martyn, to differ from Ruaeus and Heyne. These 
learned editors conceive that the poet never intended to op* 
pose in similitude the whirling aloft of the heavy ears of corn 
by the Summer hurricane* to the floating of chaff before an 
ordinary Winters gale ; but that all the circumstances men- 
tioned form part of the identical storm he so magnificently 


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describes. Surely to view the passage as a simile adds vast 
force and terror to the scene, and contributes to impress what 
Virgil indisputably wishes to enforce, the desolation which is 
inseparable from a storm during harvest 

NoteB. Page 4. 
" Proud Athos — high Ceraunia" 

Athos, a mountain in Macedonia, so high, that when the 
sun is near the horizon, it overshadows the whole isle of Les- 
bos, an extent of eight leagues. Cerauma, a chain of moun- 
tains in Epirus, frequently stricken with thunder. Hence 
their name, from Kpavvoc, a thunderbolt 

As I have attempted a version of this sublime descrip- 
tion ; perhaps, in the original, the most vivid picture of a 
storm which any pen has ever delineated ; I cannot avoid 
remarking the magnificent rapidity with which every part of 
the action is conducted, and the total absence of any extrava- 
gance of hyperbole, or prolixity of detail, so disgusting to the 
reader of taste and feeling. In the energetic terseness of his 
descriptions, Virgil is considered to have left every other poet 
at an immeasurable distance. Here, in the short space of ten 


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lines, we have presented to our view the engagement of the 
hostile winds ; the produce of the land torn up by the roots, 
and whirled through the air ; the clouds thickening ; the tor- 
rents roaring ; the very sky bursting ; the foam of the billows 
whitening the shore. And, to crown all, the Thunderer is 
introduced ; swift as his own lightning have the astonished 
beasts vanished ; consternation overwhelms universal nature ; 
we almost tremble at the redoubled fury of the winds, and the 
respondent groans of the rocks. I can imagine nothing more 
majestically designed or executed than this living representa- 
tion of a harvest storm. 


Note C. Page 5. 

" 9 Tis then from Heaven Almighty jSSther bows, 
" And warms the bosom of his happy spouse 
" With fertile show f rs" 

In the heathen mythology, &iher> or the sky, was cor- 
respondent with Jupiter; and the earth represented by Juno, 
his wife. This will explain the poet's elegant metaphor, to 
delineate the refreshing influence of the vernal shower. 


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Virgil's superiority over every other as a descriptive poet, 
has been previously remarked. And if terrible be his 
description of a summer storm, correspondingly beautiful is this 
glowing delineation of Spring. The fields brightening under 
the dew, the enchanting melody of birds, the loves of the 
cattle, the meadow baring her breast to the zephyrs, and 
vegetation courting the sun, newly awakened from his winter 
lethargy — what mind can be otherwise than alive to the rap- 
turous scenes here presented to imagination in "linked 

I have sometimes amused myself by reading, in various 
authors, descriptions of this lovely season. Second only to 
Virgil's, I consider that of the eloquent Greek Father, Saint 
Gregory Nazianzen. I need claim no indulgence for adorning 
my pages with an elegant translation of the passage in ques- 
tion, by Hugh Stuart Boyd, Esq., a scholar who, in 
addition to numerous and valuable contributions to classical 
learning, has rendered no inconsiderable service to the cause 
of religion and virtue, by his masterly versions from the most 
eminent Greek Fathers.* I extract from his " Select passages 

• I cannot forbear the mention of hit very learned and elaborate 


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"of St. Chrysostom, St. Gregory Nazianzen, and St. Basil;* 9 
3rd edition, page 207, part of " The Peroration of St. Gre- 
" gory 8 Panegyrickon the Martyr Mamas. 99 Mr. Boyd observes 
" This oration was probably pronounced on Easter Sunday, 
"and, consequently, in the Spring, A. D. 883.*' 

" All nature now moves on in unison with our festivity, 
" and rejoices in common with our joy. Behold the face of 
" things. The Queen of the Seasons unfolds her pageantry to 
" the Queen of Days, presenting from her native store what- 
ever is most beauteous, whatever is most delightful. Now 
"is the canopy of heaven more cloudless; the sun rides 
" higher in his course, arjrayed in more gorgeous splendours ; 
" brighter is the circle of the moon, and purer the chorus of 
" the stars. More pacific now, the waves murmur on the 
"shore: the tempest is allayed, soft are the whispers of the 
" breeze ; genial is the earth to the opening flowerets, and 
" grateful the flowerets to our eyes. Released from winter's 

Essay on the doctrine of the Greek Prepositive Article ; a production 
which has ranked him, in the estimation of competent judges, among 
the ablest theological scholars of his age and country. The Essay is 
appended to Dr. Adam Clarke's Commentary on the Ephesians, and a Post- 
script, in answer to objectors, stands at the end of the Commentary on 


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" tyranny, more limpid flow the fountains ; in streams more 
"copious, the rivers; gay is the foliage on the trees, and 
" sweet the fragrance of the meadow ; the herbage is cropped 
" by the cattle ; on the blooming plain the lambs disport. The 
" vessel, now, from the harbour rides forth majestic, accompa- 
" nied with shouts, for the most part shouts of gratitude, and 
" is winged with its sails. The dolphin sports on the bosom 
" of the waters, dashing around the silvery foam, and follow- 
" ing with alacrity the mariner. Now does the husbandman 
" prepare his implements of tillage, raising to heaven his eye, 
« and invoking Him who bade the fruitage flourish. How 
" jocund he leads his oxen to the yoke ! how patiently he 
"cuts the prolific furrow, while hope sits smiling on his 
" countenance ! The shepherd and the herdsman attune their 
"reeds, and meditate the rural strain, and celebrate the 
"Spring, in the grotto or the grove. The gardener now 
"more anxiously tends his plants; the fowler renews his 
" snare, and inspects the branches, and curiously explores the 
" flying of the bird. The fisherman surveys the deep, and 
" repairs his net, and sits on the summit of the rock. 

" Again the assiduous bee, spreading wide her wings, 
" and ascending from the hive, begins the demonstration of 


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" her skill, despoils the meads, and rifles of their sweets the 
" flowers. One labours at the honey-comb, constructing the 
" cells, hexagonal and mutually opposed, while another lays 
" up the delicious store, providing for him who provided her 
" a habitation, refection sweet, and sustenance untoiled for. 
"Again the bird fabricates his nest, and one returns, and ano- 
ther enters the new-formed mansion ; while a third traverses 
" the air, and bids the forest re-echo to his harmonies, and greets 
" the passenger with a song. Each part inanimate of the crea- 
" tion hymns and glorifies its Maker with a silent homage. 
" For every thing which I behold, my God by me is magni- 
" fied, and thus their hymn my hymn becomes, from whom I 
"have derived my melody. Now universal nature smiles, 
" and every sense is welcomed to the banquet. And now the 
" magnanimous steed, disdaining the confinement of his stall, 
"and spurning the fetters that impede him, bounds o'er the 
" echoing plains, and displays his beauty in the flood*" 

In perusing the undermentioned descriptions of Spring, 
I have received unmingled delight I introduce them, trust- 
ing that my readers will derive gratification from a personal 
reference to them. 


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In the sacred writings, not to particularize the several 
lovely traces of vernal imagery which teem through the 
Psalms, the Song of Solomon is indeed a noble composition, 
and deserves attentive study from the scholar, the man of 
taste, and the religionist Had we not to lament the total 
loss of the system of Hebrew versification, this rich poem 
would stand altogether unrivalled. In more immediate con- 
nection with the subject under consideration, I would mention 
Chap, II. v. 10 to 13 inclusive. 

The divine Lucretius, the '.' bright and morning star " 
of Roman literature, has commenced his immortal work, 
" De Serum Naturd" in a manner worthy himself and his 
subject It has commanded universal applause. 

Very finished and melodious is M eleager's Idyl, beginning, 
XeifxaroQ tjvefAoevTOQ air' aidtpoQ ot^ofitpoto. 
It will be founc} in either of the Anthologies, and is exqui- 
sitely translated in Blonds Collections from the Minor Greek 

The opening of our own Thomson's enchanting " Sea- 
sons," must not be forgotten. In Shakspeare there is a strik- 


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ing Spring song, near the end of "Love's Labour Lot*/* 
and the tenth speech of Perdita, in Act tt>, Scene S, of the 
"Winter's Tale," abounds in graceful touches. Few have 
surpassed Milton on this head. Instance his pleasing " Song 
s for May Morning** 

The thirty-seventh ode of Anacreon (Edit Barnes) 
delineates Spring with. a. master's pencil A free, though 
very poetical version will be found in Moore'* Translation, 
VoL II, p. 34* Horace has a thrilling ode on the return of 
Spring, (Lib. /, Car. 4,) and CatuHus's little poem, beginning 

" Jam ver egelidos refert tepores ;" 
in the rendering of which the Hon* Chas. Lamb has trans- 
ferred much of the spirit of the original, (vide Lamb's Catul- 

• The Bard of Erin introduces the following, among his notes to 
this Ode. " Monsieur Chevreau says that Gregory Naaianzenu* has 
paraphrased somewhere this description of Spring; I cannot find 
it." Had he discovered the Father's delineation, surely justice would 
hare urged him to deny the Frenchman's assertion. A comparison will 
evince that St. Gregory's description bears no further similitude to 
Anacreon's, and is no more a paraphrase of it, than it iB of Thomson's or 
Shakspeare's. But probably Mr. Moore exjuvined only die fresw-of the 
illustrious Bishop, little dreaming that an Oration on a Martyr could be 
so replete with poetical spirit, as to suffer nothing from comparison with 
one of the sweetest odes of his favoured Anacseon* . 


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lut f VoL I, p. 89,) is remarkable for a delicate and refined 
simplicity. The celebrated Scotch poet, Buchanan, has also 
written a very elegant and vivid description in Latin Elegiac 


Note D. Page 9. 

" Nor various gems the tortois'd door array ; 
" Nor br oider d forms the spangled vest display ; 
" Nor Corinth* s lustres on their tunics glow ; 
u Nor Tyrian colours for their fleeces flow:* 

In illustration of this passage, I beg to introduce the 
following attempt at translation, from Lucan's description of 
Cleopatra's Palace at Alexandria, in which she entertained 
Julius Caesar. The classical reader will find the original in 
the PharsaHoy Lib. X. 112—26. 

The vaulted roof with riches shone, the beams 
Thick plates of gold embraced, the marble dome 
Was bright in amethystine blaze, the floor 
With precious sardonyx profusely gloVd. 


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No thm veneer a meaner post enclos'd, 
But trees of ebony did Meroe bring 
To 'stablish, not to ornament, the hall. 
The wainscot snow'd in ivory ; the shell 
Of India's tortoise, sparkling on the door. 
With studs of end raid more refulgent gleam' d 
There lighten'd, on the couch, the adamant ; 
And there, the jasper yelloVd o'er the scene ; 
Gems starr'd the ottomans ; of Tyrian dye 
A double stream the ample drapery quaff 'd ; 
Save where a golden thread, or broiderd woof 
In Pkarian custom, cross 'd the rich brocade. 

As we are told, a line or two previous, that such luxuries 
were not before known to the Romans, we may gather that 
much. of the extravagance which tended so materially to 
hasten their decline, was introduced from JEgyyt 

Corinthian Brass was of high celebrity among the 
ancients. The running together of all the metals in the city, 
during its conflagration by L. Mummius, the Roman consul, 
has been sjledged as the origin of this valuable composition. 
But brass lays claim to far greater antiquity, from the con- 


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current testimony of sacred and profane authors. Its first 
mention occurs in Genesis, Chap. IV. 22, where we are 
informed that Tubal-Cain was " an, instructor qf every arti- 
JUer in iron and brass" 

Tyrian Pubpjub has received, the encomium of Almost 
every classical author, from Homer downwards. We*e I to 
enter even briefly into the controversy en that splendid 
colour, the re-discovery of which, has, for* the past century, 
divided the scientific world, and formed the constant theme 
of naturalists and travellers, I fshetdd swell thtr note into an 
essay. All, I believe, agree with Aristotle* and Pluty, that it 
was obtained from an univalve shell-fish, of the turbinated 
form ; and it appears next to oertein, thdt no jbodem dye 
can bear a moment's comparison with it, for costliness, 
brightness, or durability* It is thus described by Lucretius. 
(De Ber : Nat. Lib. VI. 1072.) 

" Purpureusque colos. conchy lii jungitnr uno 
" Ccopore cum feoffi, dtrimi qui nob quest usquam ; 
" Non— «t Neptntii' facta ienovare' operant des ; 
i( ^on^Mimr&eisotum udlitehieiT! cmi^ibus (metis." 


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-" With the fleece, 

M Ifce purple tmtrex so minutely blends, 

" Nought e'er can part them ; no — tho' e'en thou toil 

M Day after day with all great Neptune's -waves, 

" No— his teftoie sea the stain would ne'er erase."— Good. 

Tradition has handed us various accounts of the origin of this 
&mous discovery. The most poetical is, that Hercules, 
enamoured of the nymph Tyros, was wandering with her on 
the sea shore, when his dog happened to light on a shell, 
broke it, and stained his mouth of a most delicate purple 
hue. The maid, charmed with the richness of the colour, 
asked of her lover, a similarly dyed robe, in return for her 
hand. This Hercules produced, by collecting a number of 
the murices. 

But, be this as it may, the commerce in this precious 
dye greatly contributed to the opulence and magnificence of 
the once celebrated Tyre, the very ruins of which furnished 
Alexander sufficient materials for the construction of his 
gigantic mole, two hundred feet broad, and three quarters 
of a mile long, connecting the island on which the city stood, 


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with the continent So immense was the price demanded 
for this produce, that in the reign of Augustus, a pound of 
Tyrian-stauied wool could with difficulty be procured for 
thirty pounds sterling. The purple robe was subsequently 
reserved, under pain of death, to the emperor; and the 
priests, proclaiming it sacred to divinity, gratified pride at 
the expense of conscience. 

Note E. Page 9. 
44 The grot, the living kike, and Tempos shade" 

The vale of Tempe, which poets have coloured up with 
every imaginable picture of delight, was situated between the 
mountains Ossa and Olympus, in Thessaly. But Tempe 
was afterwards used, and occurs in this passage, as an appel- 
lative of any cool, refreshing valley. For a description of 
Thessalian Tempe, I refer the enquiring reader to the beau- 
tiful fable of Io, Ovid Metamorph. Lib. I. Fab. X. ; or to 
JEliani Hist. Var. Lib. IIL cap. 1. 


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NoteF. Page 11. 

" Oh ! lead me to the plain Sperchius laves, 
" Where Taygetus with Bacchic orgies raves ! " 

The Orgies or festivals of Bacchus, very generally 
observed throughout ancient Greece ; and celebrated with 
peculiar devotedness at Athens, and by the Spartan virgins 
on Mount Taygetus ; were, as Herodotus informs us, first 
instituted in iEgypt, and introduced from that country by a 
certain M elampus. According to Plutarch, the Egyptian 
divinity Osiris, and the Pamylia, festivities in his honour, 
corresponded to the Bacchus and Orgia of the Greeks and 
Romans. Though in their first introduction marked by no 
particular solemnity, and consisting principally in the dedi- 
cation of a few days to mirth, yet was their celebration, in 
course of time, attended by the most fanatical and extra- 
ordinary superstition. Crowds of worshippers, of both sexes, 
fantastically clad in fawn and goat skins , crowned with 
garlands of ivy, vine, and flowers, and bearing thyrsi, drums, 
pipes, and flutes; — some of them imitating in the uncouth 
arrangement of their attire, and the horns protruding from 
their foreheads, the poetic fictions respecting Pan, Silenus, 
and the' Satyrs ; rent the air with hideous shrieks of " Io 


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" Bacche, Evoe Sabot, O Jo Bacche ; " tortured their forms 
into the most preposterous positions ; danced with wild en- 
thusiasm ; and personified, in their infuriated rage, the despe- 
ration of madmen. 

Note G. Page 11. 
" Whobraves the roar of greedy Acheron" 

Acheron, fabled by the poets as one of the riYers of 

It has been imagined, and with some plausibility, that as 
Virgil has previously prayed the Muses to instil into his 
mind the heights of philosophy, and second only to this 
esteems participation in rural enjoyment, he opposes in this 
passage the situation of Lucretius, the only Roman who had 
hitherto written a philosophical poem, to his own, pre-emi- 
nently, as the author of Pastorals and Georgics, the devotee 
of the rural deities, Pan, Sylvanus, and the Dryads. Thus, 
while he modestly distrusts his capability to investigate the 
courses of planets and variations of tides, he finely consoles 
himself on the equal blessing attending the innocent enjoy- 


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ment of country life. Indeed the advantages of rural retire- 
ment for the encouragement of the contemplative powers, has 
been frequently remarked. In Cicero's estimation, who was 
never so happy as when tasting the domestic delights of his 
dear Tusculum, the life of the farmer constituted the nearest 
approach to that of the philosopher. Horace, in the elegant 
and amusing sixth satire of his second book, reposes his am- 
bition in a prayer for a garden, a grove, and a perennial 
stream. Shakspeare well observes (As you like it, Ad u> 
Scene 1,) 

" This our life, exempt faun, public haunt, 

" Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 

" Sermons in stones, and good in every thing ; " 

and Thomson, in the noble imitation of the Mantuan bard 
which concludes his " Autumn," remarks that he who 

" Deep in a vale, with a choice few retir'd, 

" Drinks the pure pleasures of the Rural Life," 

roams in imagination o'er boundless space, or 

: #1 * Truth divinely breaking on his mind, 

u Elates his being, and unfolds his powers t * 


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Note H. Page 12. 

" Though the Daeian horde 
" In hostile mood conspiring Isterford." 

The warlike and semi-barbarous Dacians, who inhabited 
the provinces now known as Transylvania, Moldavia, and 
Wallachia, were continually endeavouring to make inroads on 
the Roman territory. It was their custom, on crossing the 
Ister, or Danube, on a martial expedition, to fill their mouths 
with the water, and conspire by it never to retrace their steps 
until they had either slain or routed their enemies. Hence 
the propriety of the poet's epithet, conspiring Ister. 

Note I. Page 13. 

" Or meditate a city's overthrow, 

" And Lares, buried in prevailing tooe, 

" While onyx bowls they quaff, in soul elate, 

" Or sue for slumber, robed in Sarrian state" 

The Lares, or Penates, were inferior Gods among the 
Romans, who presided over houses and families. They were 
originally only two in number, sons of Mercury by Lara; 
whence, perhaps, the derivation of their first mentioned name ; 


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while Cicero informs us that they were called Penates, quod 
penitus insident, because they were deposited in the most 
secret part of the house. In process of time, every city, fa- 
mily, farm, cross-road, fountain, &c had its peculiar Lar, or 
tutelary divinity. The expression here used appears merely 
a poetical periphrasis for the ruin of families. 

In Lucan's account of Cleopatra's banquet to Julius 
Caesar, (Phars. Lib. X 9 159,) we are told 

" Manibusque ministrat 
" Niliacas crystallus aquas, gemnueque capace* 
" Excepere merum. 

Probably, therefore, the Romans introduced from Alexandria 
the custom of displaying cups of onyx, opal, agate, sapphire, 
&c on their sideboards. The magnificent Portland, or 
Barbarini Vase, the glory of the British Museum, as well as 
those which grace the Treasury of St. Denis, the church of 
St. John the Baptist at Milan, &c. &c. independently of their 
extreme elegance and beauty, present interesting associations, 
from the very plausible supposition that they anciently deco- 
rated the banquets of the great 


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The old scholiast on Virgil thus illustrate* the expression 
« Sarrano ostro" 

"Quae nunc * Tyrus* dicitur, olim * Surra 9 vocabatur, 
" a pisce quodam, qui illic abundat, quern sua lingua * Sar' 
"appellant Verum quidem est Romanos veteres pro Tyre, 
"dixisse Sarratn. Unde est quod pro Tyrio, poeta dixit 
u Sarranum ostrum." 

For a brief amount of tne Tyrian dye, I beg to refer to 
the three last paragraphs of Note D. 

Note K. Page 15. 

" Resounds the praise 
u Of thee, Leneeus, while they crown the bowls." 

Lenteus, a surname of Bacchus, from his having the 
care of wine-presses, called in Greek Arjvaia. 

The exact meaning of the expression, " cratera coro* 
nare" to crown bowls, is a point in dispute. The opinion 
that it alludes to surrounding them with garlands, (though, if 

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my memory be correct, Anacreon makes more than one 
reference to such a custom,) does not appear so fully borne 
out by ancient testimony, as that this expression merely 
refers to what we moderns call " bumpers" Libations to 
the Gods were always offered in full cups ; as it was consi- 
dered irreverential to dedicate to divinity any thing which 
was not " reketov kcu o\ov" perfect and entire. By the 
Greeks, tojiU was expressed " tirtartfiiv tfparflpa," to crown 
the cup, the exact counterpart of Virgil's expression; and 
Athenaeus informs us that a full cup was termed " «t<ot*^i|c>" 
crowned, " tiroi vvtp £<c\i?c voulrai utrre Sta rov ttotov scrrs- 
<f>arovadat" because the bead or foam of the wine appeared in 
form of a crown above the goblets rim. On the whole, there- 
fore, I think we shall approach nearer to the poet's spirit, by 
picturing in; imagination, instead of a goblet garlanded with 
flowers, the perhaps more convivial object of a creaming 
bowl of Falernian wine. 

NoteL. Page 16. 

Dictcean Jove, so called from his having been educated 
on Mount Dicte, in Crete, where was a very ancient oracle 


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in bis honour. For some excellent poetry on the golden 
age, which terminated by the expulsion of Saturn by Jupiter, 
I refer my readers to OvuL Metamorpk. Lib. L Fab. 3. 
Addison has imitated this fable very happily. 


Note M. Page 20. 

" The mountains hear the sister Dryads' moan, 
" And Rhodope's vast rock returns the groan, 
" And high Pangcea, martial Rhesus, share 

" Orithyias, Hebrus\ GeUzs care t " 

I cannot persuade myself but that the poet here figura- 
tively represents even inanimate objects as joining the Dryads 
in their lament for Eurydice ; thus at the same time encreasing 
the imaginative spirit and sympathetic pleasure, which every 
one of taste and feeling must enjoy in the perusal of this de- 
lightful episode. But I am acquainted with those far better 
qualified to form a correct opinion on the subject, who think 
the names of places here put for the inhabitants of such 


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I bring to the field the result of but scanty reading ;-— 
of what little has come under my eye, this relation of the 
affecting story of Orpheus and Eurydice has assuredly im- 
pressed the most vivid feeling of its unrivalled elegance and 
excellence. The surpassing sweetness of versification, the 
morality of sentiment, the imaginative force, the touching 
simile, the beautiful connection of ideas preserved through- 
out, and that unearthly spirit which pervades it, all unite to 
render it the most consummate effort of, perhaps, the most per- 
fect poet the world has ever seen. 

The first choral ode of that noble tragedy, the Prome- 
theus of ^schylus, bears great analogy to the more imme- 
diate subject of this note. The chorus, after eloquently 
lamenting the woes of Prometheus, and describing a variety 
of nations as joining in their grief, thus conclude : 

" Movov £i| irpoaBtv dKKov ev irovotg." k. r. X. 

Line 433, edit. Schokfield. 
" Another only Titan have I view'd, 
" In adamantine grief by Gods subdued : — 
" Atlas, — who, with eterne surpassing might, 

" Doth groan beneath the freight 



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" Of the supernal pole. 
" For him the tides of ocean wailing roll, 
" And earthly caves emit a deepening sigh ; 
" And hell's obscure recesses sound reply; 
" And fountains, whence the limpid rivers flow, 
" Murmur a pitying woe." 
" Prometheus Bound/' translated from the Greek,* by 
the author of " An Essay on Mind, and other Poems : " 
page 27. 

* Though I am denied the pleasure of making more personal 
reference to the fair author of the elegant volume here quoted : (an 
author, of whose name the learned world, to which she is so bright an 
ornament, surely cannot long be kept in ignorance,) I must congratulate 
myself on the fact that, to the best of my knowledge, this little work is 
the first, ever graced with an extract from a Greek Tragedy translated 
by a lady. May it be far from proving the last. I have before ven- 
tured on a few remarks respecting the ordinary pursuits of female 
education; and I would indulge a hope that this very scholar-like 
production may contribute to a salutary change in the mental discipline 
of the fair sex j few, very few of whom can expect to emulate its 
accomplished authoress. I confidently appeal to the critique on JEs- 
chylus, which prefaces her " Prometheui Bound," in support of this 
sentiment. It is worthy the attentive regard of all who would properly 
appreciate the merits of that great master of Greek Tragedy. 


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BOOK I. 110-66. 

Not all that ocean, earth, the boundless world, 
Holds in its ample bosom, could afford 
Sufficient for the Chiefs' divided reign. 
For ruptur'd was their blood's uniting bond, 
Their friendship sever'd, quench'd the nuptial 

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When Julia's death the cruel Fates decreed. 
Oh ! had they yet upheld thy setting sun, 
How might the wife her husband have restrain'd, 
Her sire the daughter ! As the Sabine dames 
Their sires and husbands reconcil'd, had'st thou 
Struck the drawn sword from each contending 

hand ! 
Thy death dissolves their faith; they burn for war, 
And emulation fires their envious breasts. 

Lest to new deeds his ret'ran triumphs yield, 
Or conquer'd Gaul his naval crowns obscure, 
Is Pompey's dread ;— ambitious Casar boasts 
Success in war ; his custom in the fight ; 
His fav'ring fortune, spurning second place. 

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Each bums with jealousy ; for this disdains 
A rival's fame, and that, an equal's power. 
And who shall justly judge the better cause, 
When each a mighty patron boasts ; — the Gods 
Their Caesar own, the vanquish'd, Cato shields? 
Nor came they equal to the field ; the one 
Was fleetly verging on senility : 
Declining years, the statesman's peaceful robe, 
Unlearnt the gen'ral's arts : his thirst for fame 
The people's plaudits quench'd : and recompens'd 
He own'd his ev'ry bounty, if the crowds 
Re-echoed through the theatre his praise. 
Nor cared he to recruit the soldier's force, 
But much on Fortune's former smiles relied : 
He stood, the shadow of a mighty name ! 

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As some tall oak uprears its sacred brow, 
With spoils, and ancient warriors' chaplets bound; 
When, lost the pristine vigour of its root, 
Fixt by its weight it stands ; its naked boughs 
No verdure boast ; but yields its giant trunk 
A leafless shade, and nods at every blast : — 
If thousand trees in greener glory rise, 
This wears the honour of the grove alone ! 

But Caesar's greatness was not the renown, 
The fame alone of what he once had been ; 
Uncurb'd his valour, unconfin'd his ends, 
His only shame from battle to retreat. 
Indomitably fierce, where hope, or rage 
His footsteps led, he urg'd the jav'lin's point : 

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Still feasted with success, and fav'ring Heav'n 
He forc'd whate'er his dauntless aim opposed, 
And triumph'd in the ruin which he spread ! 
So terribly, when crash the riven skies, 
The lightning pours its glory on the world ; 
Its forked brilliancy obscures the day, 
The sun-beams breaks, dismays the frighten'd 

Nor spares its very shrine ! Resistless falls, 
Returns resistless ! Desolation spreads. 
At every flash, and re-collects its fires ! 

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BOOK I. 183—212. 

Now o'er the frozen Alps had Caesar wound 
His toilsome march ; and, fraught with enterprise, 
Revolv'd the dangers of th' approaching war. 
He stood, where Rubicon its water rolls; 
And lo ! before his gaze astonish'd Rome 
Rose like a spectre ! Thro 9 the mist of night 
The vision shone : and o'er her tow 'ring brow 

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She pour'd her hoary locks, and bar'd her arms, 
And thus half spoke, half groan'd : — 

"What further shore 
" Ye warriors, seek ye ? Where my standards bear ? 
" If for your right as citizens ye come, 
"Here hold! No more advance ! " 

A shiv'ring dread 
ThrilPd through the gen'ral's frame 1 Wild terror 

rais'd •■ 
His stiffen'd hair ; his footsteps languor froze 
Fast on the river's brink, as thus he pray'd : — 

" Oh thou, who, thund'ring from Tarpeia s height, 

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"The wide-spread city view'st! Ye Phrygian 

" Your Caesar's ancestors ! Ye secret rites 
" Of Romulus departed ! Latian Jove 
" Who reign'st on Alba's summit ! Vestal fires! 
" But chief, thou highest power, eternal Rome, 
" Thy soldier prosper ! Never will he hurl 
" Destruction on thee ! Victor in the fight 
"By sea, by land, on thee his laurels hang : 
" Then own him still assertor of thy cause, 
" And spurn the wretch who Cjesar deems thy 

Then, rushing to the fight, he bore the banners 
Swift thro' the swelling tide ! So when his foe 

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The lion views, on Libya's sultry plain, 
He cow 'ring shrinks, in agony of doubt 
While he his rage resumes. But, lash'd his side 
Sharp with his mighty tail ; his mane erect ; 
And yawning hideous with terrific roar : 
Tho' the swift Moors their barbed arrows hurl, 
And jav'lins crowd upon his spacious breast, 
He braves their fury, and retires secure ! 

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BOOK II. 234—391. 

Still undismay'd was Brutus : — pallid dread 
The mourning nation wrapp'd in speechless woe ; 
No terror thrill'd in that courageous soul ! 
But, in the dead of night, when half obscur'd 
Was Helice's pale beam, he wound his way 

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To Cato's humble dwelling. There the sage 
In sleepless care revolv'd the public weal, 
And shrunk for Rome, and shar'd the common woe, 
Though in himself secure. —Thus Brutus spoke: — 

" Oh thou to who/n forsaken Virtue flies, 
~" Her only refuge ! From whose holy breast 
" No storms can chase her ! Speak ; direct my 

thoughts ; 
u Confirm my doubts ; and fortify my soul ! 
" Let others rush to arms in Caesar's cause, 
" Or Pompey's legions swell : then Cato, none 
" Shall Brutus sway. But say, dost thou retain 
" Unshaken course in this distracted world, 

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" And peace defend ? Or rather would'st thou 

"To gen'rals'^ faction, people's furious rage, 
" And hurry tort'ring Rome to civil war? 
" Discern'st thou not that each hits private ends 
" To battle move : these, their polluted homes ; 
" These peace renounce, lest violated laws 
" Should hurl destruction on their impious brows; 
" And these on bright anticipations build, 
" Compell'd by want to seek a better fate 
" E'en at the world's expense ! But justice none 
" Excites to arms : they seek the battle field, 
" And wield the falchion, for the conqueror's spoil ! 
" Does love of war to war thy thoughts incline? 

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u What ! though the world were buried deep in 


" Hast thou preserv'd immaculate thy soul, 

" And liv'd, in Virtue's fall, the one good man, 

u For this reward ? No, Cato ! war may raise 

"The wretch from ruin, but 'twill ruin thee I 

(" Ye guardian Gods ! forbid the deadly strife ; 

" Permit not that the sword those hands pollute, 

" Nor hurl your arrows thro' a night of clouds, 

" Nor bury Cato's worth in public grief!) 

" On thee the fortunes of the war would flow ; 

" Who'ld but rejoice from Cato's sword to fall? 

" And who'ld, thou writhing 'neath another's arm, 

" But envy to declare ' 9 Twas Cato's crime ' ? 

" Far better to preserve thy tranquil seat 


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" Secure from strife ; unshaken wind thy way, 
u As heavenly stars in settled orbits roll. 
" The lower sky the lightning burns ; the winds 
" O'ersweep the earth ; the meteor's blazing ball 
" Severs the clouds, and fires the path it rends : 
" But, tow'ring o'er the wreck of elements* 
" Olympus rides secure, and spurns their crash ! 
"What tho' before the blast the atoms fly? 
" Fixt and immoveable the mountains reign* 
" Yes ! happy sounds in Caesar's ear would peal, 
" That noble Cato sought the. battle field. 
" Thy choice in Pompey's cause he ne'er would 

" Enough for him that one so wise, so good, 
" Rose o'er the ranks of either. When in arms 

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"The Senate, Consuls, Nobles stand, if thou 
" Succumb to Pompey "s yoke, the world will boast 
" Her Caesar only free. But if the laws 
" Atfd liberties of Rome demand our swards, 
" Nor Pompey s enemy, ubt Caesar's foe^ - 
*' Will Brutus stand, but 'gainst the victor rise." 

He s^trd ; and Cato, from his inmost soul, 
These sacred sounds return *d : — 

" I freely own 
" The height of crime is civil war : but Fate 
" Still Virtue's guidance boasts ; and Gods decree 
" My guilt or innocence. Be their's the crime ! 
" Could mstn, himself secure, unmov'd behold 
" The world's destruction, and the planets' fell ? 


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" And who, amid the elemental war, 
" When Earth and Heaven shall totter from their 

" Will hear the mighty crash, and fold his arms ? 
'-' Shall alien chiefs a distant ocean plough, 
"And swell Hesperia's rage, and Latium's ranks, 
" And Cato rest in apathy ? Ye Gods, 
" Far hence remove your wrath ; forbid the shame! 
" May never Rome, while Dacia's armies rush 
" To yield her succour, Cato call in vain ! 
" As grief commands the mourning parent swell 
" The funeral pomp, and lead the last sad rites, 
" The flambeau bear, and light the gloomy pyre, 
" And linger o'er his lost one's obsequies ; 
41 1 never will desert my country's cause ; 

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"But cleave to Rome and liberty, and love 
" Her lifeless corse, and e'en her shade embrace ! 
" Thus let it be ! if angry Heav'n demand 
" A sacrifice of Roman blood, shall we 
" Forsake the field ? No ! rather will we court 
" The sanguine scene, than thwart the rage of 

Heav'n ! 
" Would that the wreck of this devoted head 
" Might expiate the crime, appease the Gods! 
" As Decius rush'd among the hostile bands 
" His country's martyr ; in the thickest fight 
"Would Cato stand; and brave the clashing 

" And court the darts of Rhine's barbarian sons : 
" Erect amid the battles fury, bare 

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" His bleeding breast, and glory in his wounds ! 
" Flow on, ye purple currents ; and redeem 
"Whatever punishment o'er Rome impends ! 
" Why falls a nation, easy of controul, 
"And ready to endure the .sternest rule ? 
" Here point the jav'lin ; let the sword reward 
" My sole activity in Freedom's cause. 
" These streaming veins shall peace restore, and 

" Hesperia's labour : and the need of war 
" Will die with my desire to hold our reign. 
" But seek we Eompey's standards ? Fortunes 

" May kindle his ambitious hopes, and fan 
" A latent spark for undivided sway. 

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" Then let him know that Cato shar'd his toil ; 
" Nor deem he conquered for himself alone ! " 

The patriot spoke ; and sharp the chords of ire 
In Brutus' bosom thrill'd : his youthful breast 
Too ardent glow'd with thirst for civil war ! 

And now, as dawning Phoebus chas'd the shades, 
The stricken doors resounded ; and appear'd 
Chaste Marcia, mourning from Hortensius' urn, 
Her eyes bedew'd with tears ! A happier bed 
And better spouse her maiden marriage blest; 
When, thrice the hope of wedlock crown'd, be bade 
The matron fertilize another's hearth, 
And join her alien husbands by her blood. 

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This second's embers buried in the tomb, 
With mournful countenance, dishevelled hair. 
Breast sore with frequent stripes, and forehead 

With ashes from the pyre, the sorrower sought 
Her former spouse, and thus her plaint began ;— 

w While all a mother's vigour fir'd my veins, 
" Thy mandates I fuTfili'd, and, pregnant, blest 
" Another Lord. Now, Cato,. worn with toil* 
" Exhausted by maternal pain, to thee 
" I undefil'd return. Acknowledge, then, 
"Thy spotless bride; renew our ancient bonds; 
" Give me the name of wedlock, and permit 
" That ' Cato's Wife* be graven on my tomb. 

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" And oh ! may never after ages doubt 
" If guilt estrang'd thy Marc i a, or thy bed 
" She ne'er deserted, save at thy command. 
" I ask not days of happiness ; to live 
" Companion of thy joy, but seek to share 
"Thy labour, to participate thy toil. 
u Give me to follow in the battle-train! 
" Shall Marcia pine in undisturbed repose, 
" While dwells Cornelia 'mid the roar of war ? '* 

The patriot heard her plaintive tale, and tho' 
Unmeet for marriage roll'd the hostile age, 
And loudly Fate to fields of carnage call'd ; 
He weds, without the wedding pomp ; and none 
But heav'nly powers attest his plighted hand. 

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No festive garland wav'd across the ball ; 
No snowy fleece around the porch was wreath'd ; 
No nuptial torches blaz'd ; no gilded bed 
With broid'iy hung, to ivory steps acclin'd ; 
No matron, while the fillet press'd her brow, 
Forbade the fair th' adopted threshold cross; 
No yellow veil, to hide the orient blush 
Of maiden modesty, array'd the bride ; 
No gemmeous zone her flowing garments bound ; 
Her neck no pearls adorn'd ,* no ample shawl 
Streamed from her shoulder o'er her elbow bare;— 
Just as she was, in weeds of widowhood, 
She met her husband's, as a son's embrace ! 
No sparkling wit, no Sabine merriment 

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For marriage meet, the sorrowing bridegroom 

heard ; 
No children, no relations throngd around:*— 
But, lock'd their lips, they join d their plighted 

And only Bmtus view'd t&e «ilemt wteJ . 
Nor yet did C^to &hear bis.w^ged brow^ 
Nor yet a smile ,athw*rt bfc featoww* play ; 
When fr$t he »w bis country's strife, 'twas 

That bade the matted hoar his forehead shade, 
And locks pf sadness o'er his -cheek descend^ 
Free from the cares and haites of meaner sotds, 
The jfetoiofc liv'd, to mourn for human-kind ! 
Nor yet did young Desire his bosom warm 

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To seek th* accustom'd bed; his nuptial love 
He justly temper'd by his piety ! 
And these his morals : to preserve a mean 
Nor pass the goal ; to live by nature's laws ; 
To pour his life-blood at bis country's call ; 
To deem the end of being was to bless 
The world ! To conquer hunger was his feast; 
His palace, to protect from Winter's cold ; 
His richest vest, a home-spun kirtle, round 
His body gatber'd ; — such, in Rome's best days, 
The old Quirites wore ! Of marriage rite 
He knew nor aim nor object, but increase. 
The city's father, and the city's husband ; 
The boast of Justice, and the pride of Worth ; 
He liv'd, he lov'd, he wedded, and would bleed ; 

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Twas all for common good ; on cherish'd Rome 
He shower'd the blessings which from Virtue 

And bought no pleasure for himself alone ! 

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BOOK V. 722—815, 

When in array was Caesar's army rang'd. 
And instant peril of a bard fought field 
Great Pompey threaten'd, he a refuge sought 
in distant Lesbos, far from battle roar, 
For thee, Cornelia, O'er the firmest souls 
How potent is of wedded love the sway ! 
Twas wedded love that Pompey 's ardour chill'd ; 

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The world's dominion, and the fate of Rome 
He'd fain resign to Fortune ; bnt his wife! 
The very name his mighty soul subdued. 
And oft he vainly strives to lisp the thoughts 
Which crowd upon his mind ; and still delights 
To blandish sorrow by renew'd delay ! 
Twas at the dead of night, her slumber broke, 
Cornelia clasp'd the care-worn breast, and sought 
The welcome kiss of her retiring spouse ; 
And wonder'd at his tear-dew'd cheek ; and 

Unfathomable pierc'd her to the soul ; 
Nor dared she further court her Lord's caress ! 

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The soldier wept : 

" My bosom wife ! more dear 
" Than life, when life was dearest; now approach 
" The hours of sorrow, long, too long delay 'd, 
" And still too swift their advent, when bis force 
" Dread Caesar marches to the battle field ! 
" Then oh ! to Lesbos, Love, a safe retreat ; 
" Nor urge those winning prayers : necessity 
" Alone upholds me in the parting pang : 
" Their joys, when battle rages, all must yield. 
" Nor deem remote the distance ; soon, too soon 
" The sad event will reach thee : — if destruction 
" Burst like a torrent o'er the gen'rals* brow, 
" Enough for thee to hear of Pompey's fall. 
u Say, has the justice of thy love deceiv'd ; 

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41 And can'st thou bear behold a civil war ? 
" T would shame thy Pompey, 'mid the clang of 

11 To pillow on the bosom of his bride ; 
" And, when the roar of trump shall shake the 

" Embath'd in sorrow, rise from thine embrace. 
" I dread the strife, and prematurely grieve, 
" If thou participate the soldier's toil. 
" Go, safe at distance ; shun the roar of war, 
" The woes of kings and people; nor sustain 
" The bitter burden of thy Pompey's fate. 
" So may my better half remain, to share 
" The blessing, if the Gods attend our arms : 


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" If fortune frown, thy fond caress will yield 
" A welcome succour from the victor's 9 word ! " 

She heard, and sunk beneath her weight of woe ; 

All sense deserted her astonished breast! 

Then, as she rallied, thus she pour'd her wail :— 

" I cannot, Pompey, for the Gods' decree 

" That death should quench our nuptial flame, 

" No such calamity dissolves out love ; 
" No pyre's extremest blaze ; 'tis jnine to mourn 
" A frequent, a plebeian lot, divorce. 
" But ah ! thy foster-father bids, and we . 

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" Must break our wedlock, at a toe's advance. 
" And hast thou thus Cornelia's truth esteem'd ? 
" Dost deem another lot than thine can yield 
" Thy wife security ? In joy, in woe, 
" Our hopes have e'er united hung ; and now, 
" When ruin can but speed thy glory, say, 
" Why bid me roam in exile, and expose 
" To every storm an unprotected brow ? 
" I know the burden of thy pray'r, to fall ; 
" And fix'd to thee thy fortune seems : but I 
" Can ne'er succumb to evil, and thy form 
" Will follow to the shades ; and mournful Fame 
" Shall swell the sorrow to remotest earth ! 
u > Inur'd to fate art thou : but why in rage 
" Unexorable, with a ti8e of grief 

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" O'erwhelm thy spouse ; which (yet forgive 

the grant,) 
" She dreads to suffer ? Shall Cornelia last 
" The joyful tiding learn, if Heav'n its ear 
" Accliue propitious, and regard our vows? 
" A rock shall be her refuge ; there shell stand 
" For thee solicitous ; and dread the bark 
" Which bears thy destiny, however glad ! 
" Nor shall a prosperous tiding quell my fear ; 
" For Csesar, as he flies, may seize thy bride 
" Expos'd on neutral ground : and who will fail, 
" If there reposes Pompey's wife, to think 
" How fam'd a refuge Mitylen£ yields ? 
" But oh ! attend my parting pray'r ; than flight 
" If nought await thine arms, the luckless bark 

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" Which bears thee through the main, to distance 

steer ; 
" The foe will seek thee on Cornelia's shore." 

She spoke ; and wildly from the bed she sprung, 

Unwilling to procrastinate the pain. 

Nor clasp'd she Pompey's heaving breast, nor 

About his neck in sweet embrace ; but thus 
Perish'd the hopes of such enduring love. 
They sped their sorrow ; nor could either bear 
To lisp adieu; an hour so fraught with grief 
They ne'er had known; this hour their minds 

To brave with fortitude all other ill. 

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And now the miserable bride is borne 
Where swells the main ; and prostrate on the 

She grasps the very shore ; and now the maids 
Her drooping body to the vessel raise. 
Not thus unhappy, when dread Caesar's arms •• 
Oppress'd her country, from HesperiaVports 
She sorrowing fled. Now Pompey's faithful wife 
Roams solitary thro* a desert waste, 
Her Pompey flies ! Night came. - Then first she 

The winter of a widow'd bed. Did sleep 
Her eyelids close ? Ah, no ! She ne'er enjoy *d 
An unparticipated rest ; nor sunk 
To soft repose, but in her husband's arms ! 

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How oft, in after-time, her senses lock'd 
In slumber, has she press'd a vacant couch, 
And mourn'd beguil'd embrace! How oft essay'd, 
When darkness reign'd, to clasp her absent spouse, 
And felt divorce's obloquy ! And now, 
Though latent flames her deepest marrow burn, 
She pleasures not to toss her fever'd form 
Throughout the bed, but shuns her Pompey's 

And dreads to feel his absence. But the Gods 
A darker doom decree : the hour arrives 
Which Pompey to the bride indeed shall bring ! 

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Cesar's address to his army 

BOOK VII. 260—329, 

Ye warrior hosts, controllers of the world, 
Props of my fortune, on to wish'd-for fight ! 
No prayers can aid us now ; the battle reddens j 
Strike onward, comrades ; let the gory sword 
Decide the strife ; your Caesar trusts his all 
To your victorious hands! This day shall crown 
The pledge at Rubicon, our toil requite, 
Our ancient glory, long deferr'd, renew* 

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This very day, the triumph earn'd, restore 
Our darling homes and offspring, and prepare 
The ceaseless pleasures of a rural life. 
Can fate decide the better cause? This fight 
Shall rout the guilty, shall reward the just ! 
Have ye for Caesar erst your country scourg'd 
With sword and flame ? Now let the self-same 

For freedom brandish'd, expiate the crime. 
Change but the umpire, and what hostile hand 
Is wholly innocent ? I court not fame 
Nor glory ; 'tis for you alone I wield 
The gen'ral's sway; that you and Rome may boast 
Unbounded freedom, universal power! 
Ambitious 1 No ; your Caesar fain would court 

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The homely toga ; and o'erjoy'd return 
To quaff the pleasure which retirement yields. 
Tis patriot zeal which bids him stake his fame 
For Rome's dominion, that the world be yours. 
And deem ilot that for liberty ye'll wade 
Thro' seas of blood'; a beardless band defies 
Your vet'ran might ; the dastards' of the schools 
Of Greece ; unlearn'd in hardy sport, they cow'r 
E'en 'neath the' weight of arms. And swells their 

A band of wild barbarians, in the fight 
Undisciplin'd ; the very roar of trump 
And clangour of their arms will spread dismay. 
A civil war ! To crush the foes of Rome, 
And rid the nations of a raoe of slaves ! 

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On thro' the coward crew, and at a blow 
Subdue the world, aod manifest your might; 
Not all the alien crowds which Pompey led 
In chariots to the city, can secure 
A sirigle triumph o'er such ranks as yours. 
What boots Armenia! whether friend jbr foe 
The Roman soeptre. wield ? ■, Or who would pour, 
Of Pompey V barb'rous bands, zndrop.vf blood 
To hail him Lord of Spain ? The sons of Rome 
They hate;, and most^ their best-known chiefs 

But me benignant Heav'n has blest with friends 
Well tried and strong: in countless wars has 

Their valour witness'd, fighting at my side. 

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Say, can a soldier wield his sword, and I 
Forget my vet'ran comrade ? Can a spear 
Sever the air, and Caesar fail to tell 
The arm which bade it fly ? The boding frown, 
The threatening eye, sore earnest to your chief 
Of ready victory, again I hail : 
Again thro' gory torrents seem to wade ; 
And monarchs spurn'd, and scattered senates, 

With troops of slaughtered down the crimson tide! 
But oh ! forgive the voice which dares delay 
Your rush to fight : I see your poised spears, 
And pant with hope : sure never did the Gods 
So near approach, such mighty deeds advance. 

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Then scour the narrow plain : 'twill crown our 

vows ; 
And fate permits that I, the battle won. 
The boast of kings and people shall bestow. 
Ye powers! by what portent of Heav'n, what star 
Roll'd from its ancient orbit, do ye burl 
Such vast events on Thessaly ? To day 
Or victory brings, or war's remorse prepares! 
Behold your Caesar's cross, behold the chains, 
This head rais'd in the Rostrum, and these limbs 
Expanded on the rack ; the Septa's crime, 
The closen Martian field with slaughter flooded. 
With Sylla's peer a civil war we wage. 
Your cause my arms excites ; to me, secure 
My doom will aye remain : and he, the first 

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Who flies before a yet uflconquer'd foe, 
Bathed in my bosom shall this blade behold ! 
YcrGods! whose care the Earth, the Roman 

toil < 
Allures from Heav'fr, success his arms attend, 
Who ne'er will bury a destroying sword 
In slaughter of the vanquish'd, nor pronounce 
His comrades worsted, in their crime's avenge. 
When Pompey held your ranks in straitened 

And nought your valour, in the pass, avail'd, 
How deep in gore he plung'd hisntard'rous blade I 
Yet this I pray you, youths 5 who sounds retreat 
Before your conquering arms, in mercy spare ; 
A citizen the fugitive esteem. 

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But, while the jav'lins glisten, never hear 
Compassion's echo ; nay ; and tho' your sires 
Array the hostile van, a reckless sword 
PI tinge- in titeir Wallow'd brow. And let the steel, 
Whether affection's bond it burst, or pierce 
No kindred breast, fall fiercely on the foe : 
Esteem it crime an enemy to spare. 
Then break the ramparts, desolate the trenches, 
And on to battle in united arms. 
Nor spare the camp ; but forward to the forts 
From whence advance your victims. 

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Who bade him consult the oracle of Jupiter Amnion, in the , 
desarts of Libya. 

BOOK IX. 564—584. 

Fraught with the God his bosom even bore, 
He spoke ; and worthy of a shrine his words : 

" What Labienus, bidst me question ? Whether 
" The better wish in freedom's cause to fall, 
" Or own a tyrant's stern dominion ? Whether 
" A thing of nought be life ; and, long or short, 

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" It little differ ? If the mightiest storm 
" Can shake the good ? If Fortune 'gainst the 

" Her arrows hurl in vain ? If love of praise 
" Excite to virtue ; and if honest purpose 
" Above the breath of circumstances soar ? 
"All this we know; nor yet can Ammon deeper 
" Enroot the knowledge. To the powers above 
" We ever cleave ; and tho 9 the oracle 
" Its silence still maintain, we ne'er can act 
" Except as Heav'n decrees. Divinity 
" Ne'er speaks its will by soothsayers ; on man, 
" When first creation rose, th' Almighty pour'd 
" The meed of knowledge; has he chosen, then, 
" A barren waste for partial prophesy, 


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" And buried truth in this abyss of sand ? 
" Has God a temple, save the earth, the main, 
" The air, the heav'n, and virtue ? Wherefore, 

" Dost further question? In whatever thou seest, 
" Where'er tho' wind'st thy way, there reigneth 

" Let dastards, ever doubting future fate, 
" To sorcerers repair ; no oracle 
" My faith can fix; that death is sure, I know; 
" Know that the brave must as the coward fall : 
" And thus, for me, hath Jove enough declar'd." 

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Note A. Page 56. 

" As some tall oak vprears Us sacred brow, 

" With spoils, and ancient warriors' chaplets bound." 

Holyday observes that the manner of raising a trophy 
after a victory, was " by cutting down a tree, lopping off its 
branches, fixing it in the ground, and then hanging upon it 
the spoils wonne from the enemie ; " and his account cor- 
responds with those of the anoient poets. Thus Juvenal, 
(Sat. XL 133,) 


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" Beilorum exuviss, truncis amxa tropaeis 
" Lorica, et fracta de casside buccula pendens, 
" Et curtum temone jugum, victeque triremis 
" Aplustre." 

" The spoils of war ; the trunk in triumph placed, 

" With all the trophies of the battle graced, 

" Crush'd helms, and batter'd shields, and streamers borne 

" From vanquish'd fleets, and beams from chariots torn." 



Thus also Statius (Thebais, Lib. II. 707.) 
" Quercus erat tenerse jamjudum oblita juventae ; 
" Huic leves galeas, perfossaque vulnere crebro 
" Inserit arma." 

There stood an oak, whose sapling youth had long 
From Memory's record been eras'd, and there 
The helms, the shields by countless lances pierc'd, 
He hung. 

The oak was thus honoured, from its consecration to 
Jupiter ; to whom, as the chief of Gods and men, the spoils 


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of war were pre-eminently due ; but the olive was sometimes 
selected for this purpose, as the emblem of peace, one of the 
consequents of war. 

Note B. Page 57. 
" Nor. spares its very shrine ! " 

I can find no account of any temple dedicated to the 
lightning, as a Divinity; but the poet probably alludes to 
the temple of Jupiter Tonans, the Thunderer. 

The learned and truly critical Prebendary Urquhart 
remarks on this passage ; " Nothing can exceed the portraits 
of Caesar and Pompey, put in opposition in the first book, 
which are written with incomparable taste." And surely the 
similes to either general ; Pompey, the venerable oak, which, 
having endured the brunt of ages, still towers over its fellow- 
foresters, and " wears the honours of the grove alone ; " 
Caesar, the dauntless warrior, rushing against his country, as 
the lightning rends the very shrine consecrated to its worship; 
are conceptions equally bold, poetical, and faithful. 


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Note C. Page 58. 

"Lo! before his gaze astonish 1 d Rome 
"Rose like a spectre!" 

Unfortunately for Lucan, this noble phantom of his 
weeping country, is the only fiction in the Pharsalia. It has 
always been considered exquisite both in design and execu- 
tion ; and sufficiently evinces the strength and oraginafity of 
its author's genius. 

Note D. Page 59, 60. • 

" Oh thou, who, thund ring from Tarpeia's height, 

" The wide-spread city viewst! Ye Phrygian Gods, 

" Your CcBsars ancestors ! Ye secret rites 

" Of Romulus departed / Lotion Jove 

" Who reign' st on Albas summit f Vestal fires ! " 

On the Tarpeian rock, was built the Capitol, a very 
celebrated temple and fortress. It derived its name from the 
reputed circumstance, that when the foundation was dug, in 
the reign of Servius Tullius, the head of a certain Olus, or 
Tolus, (Caput Oli, vel ToH,) was found with the face entire. 


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It appears from some authors, that the Capitol contained 
three different temples, dedicated respectively to Jupiter, 
Minerva, and Juno. Others, with Lucan, in the passage 
under consideration, mention Jupiter alone as the object of 
its consecration. As a citadel, its great strength rendered it 
of the highest importance to the security of Rome. It was 
several times destroyed by fire, and as often rose from its 
ashes in encreased splendour. We read in Suetonius of the 
munificence of Augustus in endowing this stronghold : as a 
single donation, he once presented 2000 pounds weight of 
gold. Plutarch says, that in the reign of Domitian, its very 
gilding cost 12,000 talents, (£1,976,250.) 

It was the great wish of Julius Caesar, and his successors 
in the Roman empire, to impress their subjects with the idea 
that iEneas, son of Anchises and Venus, and, as Homer 
traces his genealogy, of the race of Jupiter, was called into 
their country by the express order of the Gods, and made 
king of it by the will of heaven, as well as every human 
right ; that there was an uninterrupted succession of kings 
from him to Romulus ; that in this line the sceptre was to 
remain for ever, conquering, and to conquer ; and that they 
(the Caesars) were the direct descendants of lulus or Asca- 


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nil*, ton of £diu, To conirai this opinion of their lineage 
was the great political object of the JEneid of Virgil, and we 
find frequent allusions to it throughout the poem. Thus, 
(L& 1. 290,) 

" Nascetur pulchrA Trojanus origine Caesar, 
" Imperium oceano, famam qui tenninet astris, 
" Julius, a magno demissum nomen Iulo." 

" Then Caesar from the Julian stock shall rise, 

" Whose empire ocean, and whose fame the skies 

" Alone shall bound." Dbydbn. 

Suetonius records an extract from a funeral oration de- 
livered by Julius Caesar over one of his female relatives, 
boasting her maternal descent from Ancus Martius, and her 
paternal from Venus. (Suet in Julio, cap. VI.) The 
general here invokes the household Gods, brought from Troy 
by Mneas. 

It was the current opinion, that Romulus was miracu- 
lously conveyed to heaven ; and this opinion was confirmed 
by an eclipse of the sun happening at the time of his disap- 


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pearance ; and by the solemn declaration of one of the senate, 
that, as he was returning from Alba, the founder of Rome 
appeared to him in a superhuman form, and commanded that 
divine worship might be paid him, under the name Qwritws. 
A temple was erected, and a priest, called Flamen QtdrtnaUs, 
appointed, to officiate in certain mystic ceremonies instituted 
in his honour. 

Tarquin the Proud, seventh king of Rome, ordained 
that the Latins should hold festivals to Jupiter on Mount 
Albanus, during fifteen consecutive days in every year. 

Any protracted discussion on the mysteries of Vesta, 
would here be irrelevant Be it sufficient to observe that a 
certain number of virgins, from whom a vow of celibacy for 
thirty years was required, were selected as priestesses of that 
Goddess ; and that their principal duty was to feed the sacred 
fire kindled in the sanctuary of their divinity, the extin- 
guishing of which foreboded the direst calamities to the state. 
But the poet had probably another reason for introducing 
" Vestal fires " into Caesar's invocation : this general's sup- 
posed ancestor, ^neas, first brought the mysteries of Vesta 
into Italy, from Troy. 


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Note E. Page 6*. 

" But, in the dead of night, when half obscured 
" Was HeUce'spate beam," 

When I rendered this passage, I did not recollect that 
the constellation Relief answering to our Great Bear, could 
never set in the latitude of Rome. I have since arrived at 
the gorgeous description of the shield of Achilles, which con- 
cludes the eighteenth book of the Iliad ; on one compartment 
of which Vulcan is said to have chased 

The earth, the heav'n, the tide, 
The restless sun, the moon's expanded pride, 
The Pleiads, Hyads, and Orion's might, 
The Bear, (the Northern Wain by others hight,) 
Which high revolves, observes Orion's train, 
Nor bathes its quenchless glory in the main.* 

* Ev fuv ydiav trti%t, sv & oupavov, tv it Oa\a*<ray 9 r. r. A. 

IAIAA. 2. 483. 


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On examining Lucan's expression in connexion with this, 
and recalling to my memory the opening of Anacreon's bean* 
tiful and playful third ode: 

" MetrovvKTioic iroff Apat?, 

" Irpeferai br Afwrroc rtfy 

" Kara %&pa rr\v Botirov." 

" Twas noon of night, when round the pole 

" The sullen Bear is seen to roll;" Moore. 

I discovered my mistaken translation, and beg to suggest 
the following substitute : — 

But, in the dead of night, when round the pole, 
Had Helice advanced, &c 

Note F. Page 66. 
" The lower sky the lightning burns ; the winds 
" Oersweep ike earth ; the meteor's blazing hall 
" Severs the clouds, and fires ike path it rends : 
" Butt tow ring o'er the wreck of elements, 
" Olympus rides secure, and spurns their crash f " 

The fine contrasts between heaven and earth which so 


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conspicuously adorn the pages of many ancient poets, all, 
probably, owe their origin to the Mowing sublime passage 
from Homer : — 

" OvXvfiwoy $\ 60c tyaai Oevv idoQ aajaktc am 
" ^fifuvai* our* avtfxoitri Tivavtrerat, ovr§ iror' ofifipf 
" AevertUf ovrt %u*v nriwcXvarcu* aXAa ^iaX' aiBpij 
" ITcwrarac -avvtj tXoc, Xevny 5* tirifoSpofuv aryXjj." 

OAY2. Z. 42. 

" The seat of Gods ; the regions mild of peace, 
" Fall joy, and calm eternity of ease. 
" There no rude winds presume to sweep the skies, 
" No rains descend, no snowy vapours rise ; 
" But on immortal thrones the blest repose ; 
" The firmament with living splendour glows." 


The learned Samuel Clarke, in his note on this celebrated 
passage, brings forward a collection of imitations from the 
Classic Poets: but as I do not possess his edition of the Odys- 
sey, I must be content with this reference, particularly direct- 
ing the attention of the tasteful reader to the magnificent lines 


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he adduces from Lucretius. One parallel, which appears to 
me far above mediocrity, he has omitted. It is from Claudian ; 
(Be Cans. Mall. Tkeodar. v. 206.) 

« Altus Olympi 
" Vertex, qui spatio ventos hyemesque relinquit; 
" Perpetuum nulla temeratus nube serenum, 
" Celsior exsurgit pluviis, auditque ruuntes 
" Sub pedibus nimbos, et rauca tonitrua calcat" 

" Towers Olympus into Heaven, and far 
" Hath left beneath the elements' puny war ; 
" But rears for ever there its changeless form, 
" Undimm'd by darkness, unprofan'd by storm, 
" Above the rain-cloud, and that gloomier mass 
" Where roll the thunders, and the lightnings flash, 
"Looks from its summit throne o'er boundless space, 
" And scorns the tumult murmuring at its base." 

Hon. and Rev. Henry Howard. 


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Note G. Page 68. 
" As grief commands the mou r ning parent swell 
" The funeral pomp, and lead the last sad rites, 
" The flambeau bear, and light the gloomy pyre, 
" And linger o'er his lost one's obsequies" 

It was the melancholy duty of the nearest relatives to 
perform all the offices about the dead. Thus Hippolytus, 
about to expire, calls on his father Theseus to veil his lace ; 
(Eurip. HippoL 1458.) ; we here read of the parent applying 
the first torch to the pyre of his son, which Virgil speaks of 
as an established custom ; (JEneuL vi. 228.) ; and Juvenal 
mentions, in his inimitable tenth satire, the expected presence 
of survivors at the funeral ceremonies of deceased relatives, as 
a principal evil consequent on protracted years. 

NoteH. Ptge74. 

" No matron, while the fillet press' d her brow 
" Forbade the fair th' adopted threshold cross. 99 

On the first entrance of a Roman bride into her hus- 
band's house, a matron, crowned with flowers, lifted her over 
the threshold. For a newly-married woman to touch this 
part with her feet was deemed ominous, from its consecration 
to Vesta, the goddess of virgins. 


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Beautiful as the genius of our poejb has rendered his 
description of the re-marriage of Cato and Marcia, scarcely 
less valuable is it as a record of antiquity* We possess, I 
believe, no account of the Roman nuptial ceremonials, so 
condensed, and at the same time so complete. Few and un- 
important are the incidents which the bard has not negatively 


Note I. Page 82. 

« But ah ! Ay foster father bids" 

It will be recollected that Julia, the daughter of Caesar, 
was Pompey's first wife. To Caesar, then, does Cornelia 
here refer. 


NoteK. Page 93. 

" This head rais'd in the Rostrum, and these limbs 

" Expanded on the rack ; the Septa's crime, 

" The closen Martian field with slaughter flooded. 

On the murder of any public character, it was customary 


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for Ids enemies to fix his head on a spear, and raise it in the 
rostrum. Such was the ill fete of the patriotic Cicero, whose 
head and hands, after his base assassination by Herennius, the 
creature of Antony, were brought back to Rome, and thus 
exposed. To the Rostrum, as Floras relates, the people ran 
as eagerly to behold his relics, as they had formerly done to 
hear his eloquence. 

The Septum was an enclosed, space of ground in the 
Campus Martius, where Sylla, in whose interest Pompey had 
formerly joined, barbarously murdered whole legions of 
Roman soldiers. 


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Hail, monarch of the silver robe ! 

The whirlwind girds thy form, 

Thy shining locks, the isicles, 

Thy coronet the storm, 

Thy voice, the tempest's melody, 

Thy wand, the billow's flail, 

And the whistling winds thy white zone binds : — 

The Poet bids thee hail ! 

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Thou wav'st thy wand, the cataracts 
With force impetuous rush ! 
Thou speak'st, and icy manacles 
Their foaming waters hush ! 
Thou bidst, to the noise of the roaring blast 
The shrieking Wind-God listens f 
Thou op'st thy hand, and the snow-clad land 
Like stars on the ocean glistens ! 

Thy chariot is an hurricane 
Tremendous in its speed ! 
Thy charioteer, bleak iEolus, 
Swift Eurus is thy steed :— 
His harness is of adamant, 
His chirup, the torrent's thunder, 

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His goading lash, the blue meteor's flash, 
Which tears the skies asunder ! 

As the wide-spread mantle of smoke conceal'd 

The Godhead's fearful light, 

When to Israel he stood revealed 

On Sinai's awful height ; — 

As her silver veil clothes the Vestal pale, 

When she robes her maiden worth ; — 

So thy phalanx of clouds the red sunbeam 

So thy tunic of hoar, the earth ! 

Thou sip'st the kisses of the night ; 
Her lover sure art thou ; 

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Thou weav'st a wreath of poppies white, 

Around Aurora's brow. 

Thou quenchest the streams of Apollo's beams 

Which spangle the eastern heaven, 

And his fire-steeds fly down the western sky. 

Like chaff, by the whirlwind driven ! 

And oh thy breath ! 'tis a blast of death 

To the forest leaves of green ; 

'Tis a sweeping scathe to the fescue blfkde. 

Spoils the flowers of their summer sheen ; — ■ 

But lovely still — for congeal it will. 

And mirror each form below : — 

On the boughs its clusters of sparkling lustre, 

Like pearls on the Afric glow ! 

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If not a sound which Echo pours, 
And not a flash which gleams below 
Were softer than the thunder's roars, 
Or warmer than the lightning's glow ; 
Jf not a flower that Earth can give 
Could wrap the ravish'd sense in bliss ; 
Oh ! tell me who would wish to live 
In such a wilderness as this ? 

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J 20 
But no ! the thunder- blasts appal, 
Yet music from the Zephyr streams ; 
Tho' lightning's chilling bolts may fall, 
Yet kindly shine the summer beams ; 
Tho' thorns a casual stem deform. 
To each a crowning rose is given, 
To bind its wound, conceal the thorn, 
And make the wilderness a heaven 1 

If sorrow's clouds had ever roll'd, 
And all was veil'd in boding night ; 
The wretched past, a waste untold, 
And time without a beacon light ; — 
If not a moral plant would bloom, 
And not a virtue yield its kiss, 

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Oh say ! could man endure tbe gloom 
Of sucb a wilderness as this ? 

But no ! for oft do blushing skies 
Repose on Sorrow's misty head, 
And bright Imagination's eyes 
A halo o'er the future shed ; 
With young Devotion's rip'ning face, 
And Beauty's cheek, to Rapture given, 
And Friendship's smile, and Love's embrace, 
The wilderness becomes a heaven ! 

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When Summer's last lily, lamented, has perish'd 

The roses, once lov'd, a departure foretell, 

And each gem of the garden which Flora has 

Is cloy'd with its fragrance, and whispers "fare- 
To think, or to know that their odorous treasure 
Is gathered in dew, though the flowers droop and 

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Oh ! this to the feeling, is Winter's best pleasure; 
It dries the big tear-beads which gush from the 

Thus sweet are the embers which Fancy enlightens, 
Of those o'er whose relics Affection has wept ; 
Thus pleasing the traces which Memory brightens, 
Pourtray'd in the record which Friendship has 

If such recollections your sorrowings banish, 
Why weep for the lov'd, for the fairest why 

Would ye weep for the wild notes of music which 

Should Echo have promised their wilder return ? 

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Twilight o'er the hills is stealing, 
Broader gleams the orb of day, 
Evening's dulcet bells are pealing, 
Earth's rejoicing : — Come away ! 
Ere the dew's ambrosial showers 
Lull to soft repose the flowers, 
Oh ! to yonder fairy bowers, 
Bathed in beauty, Come away ! 

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Hark ! the nightingale is weaving 
Requiems, on the forest spray ; 
And the tender moon is breathing 
Stillness round thee ; — Come away ! 
Nature to the air inviting, 
Every scene thy soul delighting, 
And with novel joys requiting 
Every footstep ; Come away ! 

Echo, with the Zephyrs playing, 
Murmurs back their roundelay ; 
Now are thousand stars arraying 
Heaven with lustre ; — Come away — 
Where the lily's silvery lightness 
Matches with thy neck in whiteness ; 

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And the rose's vermeil brightness. 
Mocks thy blushes ; Come away ! 

Gentle breezes round thee sighing', 

Wafting incense on thy way ; — 

Sylphs on Pleasure's ocean plying 

Barks of gladness — Come away ! 

Rip ning sweets the spring-buds quaffing, 

Fring'd with flowers, the meadows laughing, 

Every grove the hawthorn chafing 

With its fragrance — Come away ! 

And a song of war I'll sing thee, 
Fought by knight for lady gay ; 

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And a lay of love I'll bring thee 
Meet for maiden ;— Come away ! 
And the hyacinth's scented cluster, 
And the violet's purple lustre ;~- 
All the garden's sweets I'll muster. 
For thy garland— Come away ! 

And the whispers of the fountain 
Shall respond my votive lay ; 
And the lowings from the mountain 
Swell my measures — Come away ! 
Lovely shine the lamps of heaven, 
Not a cloud is o'er them driven ; — 
What so beautiful as even 
To the Lover ? — Come away ! 

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Gome ! the hill, the dale rejoices, 
Chaunt the woods, the fields are gay ; 
Come ! well blend our hearts and voices 
In the rapture ) Come away ! 
Life ! 'tis short : — delay ! 'tis madness, 
Joy may be dethroned by Sadness ; 
Join the universal gladness 
Of Creation ! Come away ! 

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The iron-pinion'd eagle from above 

Bears down the thunder and the bolts of Jove. 

The swan, companion of the cooling waves, 

Her snowy bosom in the river laves ; 

And Philomela, on the poplar tree, 

Lulls the light gale with grateful harmony. 

The peacock spreads her gaudy tail around, 

The shadow of her plumage paints the ground. 


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The turtle's plaintive coo delights the air, 
The sparrow, Venus, boasts thy guardian care. 
For these the woods arise, for those the groves, 
And each her destined habitation loves. 

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Giant of this sylvan glade, 
Last liv'd tree of ages gone ; 
Fancy's nurse, beneath whose shade 
Harps have trembled, bards have sung ; 
While array'd in honours green, 
Hear an humbler minstrel's lays ; 
Count the glories thou hast seen ; 
Tell the deeds of former days. 

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Near thy consecrated boughs, 
Did some Druid's altar rise ? 
Hast thou heard his daily vows, 
Hast thou seen his sacrifice ? 
Fragrant incense did he pour 
On thy moss-encushion'd side, 
And his wild poetic lore 
Chaunt to thee at eventide ? 

Ere the rip'ning solar beam 
Tipp'd with gold the grainy hoard, 
Or the vine's exalted stream 
Crown'd the joy-inspiring board, 
Forest Sire ! untutor'd man 
Of thy produce cull'd his fill, 

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While his thirsty fellows ran 
Fast beside the crystal rill. 

Thou hast view'd the crested knight 
On his courser mounted high, 
Clad in armour richly bright, 
Rush to feats of chivalry, 
While his well-lov'd Lady gay, 
On a palfrey borne beside, 
Pleas'd, beheld his fair array, 
Cheer'd his courage, rais'd his pride. 

And when many a broken lance 
Glitter'd on the tented plain, 

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J 34 
And the champions will'd to prance 
For thy lofty shade again, 
Oh ! to see thy guests regale 
Where the Poet muses now ; 
And the foaming nut-brown ale 
Mantle o'er the goblet's brow ! 

Then a high-born bard of old 
Struck his silver-chorded lyre, 
And the feat of glory told, 
Glowing with Aonian fire ; 
While the fame-crown'd victor's praise 
All his fellow minstrels sung ; 
And with high romantic lays 
All the forest echoes rung ! 

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But the blushing western sky 
Of the day's departure tells ; 
And the chiming melody 
Of those evening village bells, 
Bids the swain his fair one greet, 
Trip the dance, or whisp his love ; 
And the wrestling ploughmen meet, 
While with pastime rings the grove. 

Happy souls ! their only care 

Or in rustic sports to vie, 

Or the toil-earn'd meal to share, 

Or to earn their next supply ; 

But the Poet's lot severe ; 

Anxious thoughts his slumbers break, 

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And the frequent falling tear 
Writes a wrinkle on his cheek ! 

Yet when floods of sorrow roll 
O'er his little vessel's beak, 
Tis a solace to his soul, 
Shelter from life's storm to seek 
Where each spirit of the past 
Wafts a bright, a golden dream ; 
Where each sweetly-murmuring blast 
Modulates a fairy theme ! 

But should'st thou, the forest's pride, 
Lose thy long continued sway, 

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What will quell bis sorrow's tide, 
What his heart's distress allay ? 
Where will Fancy find a cell 

When she seeks thy gloom in vain ? 
Where the weed-clad minstrel dwell, 
When thou plough'st the mighty main ? 

Oh ! in solitude he'll roam 
O'er some summit's beetling brow, 
Whiten'd by the breeze-borne foam 
Of the swelling surge below ; 
And he'll bid each billow bring 
Tidings of thy future fare, 
Which a Spirit-Bard shall wing, 
Sylvan Monarch, to thine heir ! 

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At the conclusion of the spirited translation of the 
" Agamemnon " of jEschylus, by Hugh Stuart Boyd, Esq. 
I find three short poems, in elegant Ionic Greek. From the 
first of these I have derived such pleasure as to induce me to 
offer an English metrical version ; annexing the original, the 
purity of which cannot fail to engage the attention of such 
men of learning as may honour my trifling work with their 


EN0EO2 ti iravrtog, « ')(p V€rto ft 0€rT P v X B Kovptf 
Ei/dpovoc, ct/3pa ytXqg, kXuvidv fxeya kv$oq AStjviop, 
EjcXa/uiret & ooatav eiri iropfvpepat irapetatg, 
iS/Lapfiapvyrj Movawv, atrfifcrrov r ASavarwr <pu)Q. 
*H tie rptac Xaptruv yXwaarriv rraideverev epavrrjv, 
Avdeari & ovpavioiQ irXoKafiovQ b<tt£\^b <f>a£ivov€. 
Movcructj si \pw)(Tig 9 /j,V7jfirjQ KaBapwrarov atyvog* 
O/jLfiaTOQ ^ daiTtjy Xa/irrpa re. rravtfyvpiQ lortay, 
Kai Zie<j>vpwv re Xvpatv re iroXv yXvicepwrepov ^&t£. 


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Thou, gold-tress'd Maid of Graia, shin'st supreme; 
And o'er thy brow, with purple laughter bright, 
Enthron'd in glorious, ceaseless splendour, beam 
The Muses' fire, the Godhead's quenchless light! 
The Graces in thy flowing voice delight, 
Among thy locks perennial chaplets wreathe ; 
Thou'rt music to the soul, and rich thy might 
To gratify the ear, to feast the sight ! 
Tis thine in trancing melody to weave 
Whate'er the lyre repeats, the soft-wing'd Zephyrs 

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Health, of mortal powers supreme, 
Kind companion of my way ; 
O'er my paths propitious beam, 
Gild my life with pleasure's ray ! 

Riches, offspring, (if the prize 
Aught of hope or joy can yield ;) 

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Kingdom, (if to bliss they rise 
Meet for Gods, who sceptres wield ;) 

Lovely Venus, (if delights 
Aught her meshes can ensnare ;) 
Whatsoe'er the sense invites, 
Pours the balm to solace care ; 

Thine's the blessed source ; with thee 
Flourishes eternal Spring; 
Health, to human misery 
Thou alone can'st succour bring ! 

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A chorus of native virgins, captured by the Greeks at the 
siege of Troy, are represented by the Tragedian as 
chaunting to the gale, in alternate stanzas, this pathetic 
enquiry on their future destiny. 

Gales, ocean gales, who fleetly bear 
The vessel o'er the whit'ning wave, 
Oh ! whisper to the lost one where 
Ye waft her ? Must she live a slave 

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Where spread their ports the Dorian shores, 

Or where Apidanus, supreme 

Of glorious rivers, kindly pours 

O'er Phthia's mead, his bounteous stream ? 

Or must ye for the islands ply 

Your surge-dipp'd oars, and bid me roam 

A victim in captivity, 

A mourner in a hostile home, 

To waste my miserable day 

Where first its shade the palm-tree spread,. 

The laurel burst its holy spray 

To grace Latona's offspring's head ? * 

* Delos, one of the Cyclades, a cluster distinguished bjr 
our Poet as " the islands," was celebrated as the hirth-place 
of Apollo and Diana, twin children of Jupiter and Latona. 
Here, as the ancients supposed, the palm and laurel first 

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There, link'd with many a native maid, 

The quiver bless, and breathe my vow 

Before the fillet's golden braid 

Which binds Diana's sacred brow? 

Or, where Minerva's ramparts rise * 

And rolls her gorgeous chariot, trace 

On saffron pall, in flowery dyes, 

Her panting coursers, yok'd for race : 

Or broider forth the Titan's might, 

Whom Jove's fell bolts, encircled round 

With forky flames of piercing light, 

In everlasting slumber bound ? 

Ah ! woe my children, woe my sires, 

My native land, adieu; for there 

* At Athens, whose tutelary divinity was Minerva, 
Goddess of War and of Wisdom. 

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High blaze the desolating fires, 
And Greece exalts her conquering spear ; 
While I my wretched doom must grieve, 
A slave to alien nations led, 
And Asia Europe's bondmaid leave, 
And court the grave, my bridal bed ! 



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